He wouldn’t be eating there ever again, that was for sure.
Grabbing a cup out of the cabinet, he filled it up with water, then set it down. After wetting a paper towel, he headed for the bathroom. He was halfway out of the kitchen when he saw the empty smoothie cup. “Shit.”
Setting the other items down, he picked it up and walked to the trash, stepping on the pedal that lifted the lid. As he dropped the cup inside, his eyes caught the edge of a box that was tucked under a plastic bag, and when he read the words on it…his stomach dropped like a bad fifty-yard pass.
He fisted his hands, staring at the pink and white box, the world spinning around him.
He’d changed a lot for Kassidy.
Given a lot of allowances.
Taken risks.
But this…?
No. Hell no.
He was a quarterback. A free man. A guy who knew what he wanted out of life. And it wasn’t this. It wasn’t supposed to be this.
And yet…
He couldn’t deny the slight flutter of exciteme
nt, underneath the shock, fear, and anger roiling around in his stomach.
The bathroom door opened from behind him, and Kassidy came out. “Ugh.”
He still didn’t move. Just stood there, in front of the trash can. If this was real, what were they going to do? What would she want to do? How could they possibly—?
“Is this water for me?” she asked from behind him, her voice weak.
“Y-Yes,” he managed to say.
“Thanks.” She walked up to him, water in hand. “We need to…”
When she didn’t finish the sentence, he took his foot off the pedal and turned to her, body stiff. So many emotions swirled within him, fighting for control. Anger. Pain. Denial. Fear. He grasped the anger that seemed to be the strongest thing besides fear, and firmly ignored that tiny bit of excitement that betrayed him by even existing. “Talk?”
She nodded.
“What the hell is going on?” he gritted out from between clenched teeth.
She bit her lip. So, she was nervous.
Good. So was he.
“I… You see… Uh…”
When she said nothing else, just stammered out a start a few times, he said, “Tell me that the pregnancy test box I see in the trash is just you being paranoid because you’re late. Tell me it wasn’t positive. Tell me it’s your friend’s, or your brother’s girlfriend. Tell me it’s bad sushi making your stomach upset, and not a fucking baby.”
“I…” She paled even more, biting her lip harder.
He covered his face, his heartbeat echoing loudly in his head, and laughed. It was hoarse and not really a laugh, but hey, it was all he had in him. He should stop talking before he said something he regretted, turn around, and get the hell out of here, but he couldn’t stop talking.
If he stopped, if he thought about it, it would be real.
Shit, this was real.
His heart pounded. His palms sweated. His stomach twisted into knots.